Stahr Los Saark
by Dovahdad
Summary: A beaten young woman enters the city of Whiterun before a change in the seasons. In one day she lost her innocence, barely escaped execution and survived a dragon attack. The Thalmor, Imperials and Stormcloaks are all enemies for what was committed against her. Yet this country, this Skyrim, cries out at this broken, not-yet heroine.
1. Chapter 1

It was a late afternoon of whispered rumours by superstitious guards and servants alike, that saw the great double doors of Dragonsreach swing open to admit the woman-warrior.

The Jarl's ancient hold bore that closed-in wood and straw feeling that heralded a change in the weather. Servants scurried about, sweeping and seeing to fickle needs. The great fire pit beyond the wide staircase to the throne smouldered, warping the air over it and sending wisps of fragrant woodsmoke languidly curling into beams of light from windows above. The newcomer was questioned briefly by the Jarl's Dunmer housecarl before being granted an audience. Balgruuf momentarily studied the leanness of her, seeing tension in narrow shoulders clad in ill-fitting Imperial leathers. Weariness was evident in her creased brows over guarded Nord ice-blue eyes. Her hair was an astonishing shade of red, wavy, matted and dirt-faded as it was. Her tresses appeared hastily tied away from her face with a strip of uncured wolfskin. Smears of dirt adorned her all over and a grimy cloth wound itself just above her left elbow, presumably to cover a wound. Her thin knees peeking above boots a size too large for her were both skinned and inflamed. A hunter's worn bow was at her rigid back, the tell-tale fletches of inexpensive iron arrows alongside. Two simple steel daggers were tucked into her broad leather belt, seemingly as an afterthought. Both blades showed darkened dry smears. All borrowed, _scavenged_, he mused, only partially listening to the arguments from his excitable steward at his right. _What does she want?_

"My Jarl, this… person… brings news from Helgen." Mild distaste was evident on his housecarl's features, but her crimson Dunmer eyes were inscrutable as always. Irileth. Battlebond. They'd saved each other's lives innumerable times in the field. Her deep loyalty to him was of course fuel for a different kind of rumour in court, but their relationship was forged with swords in hand, guarding each other's backs. She could be overprotective and over suspicious at times… Balgruuf sat up straighter at Irileth's words though, sudden interest showing in his eyes. He beckoned the stranger forward, waving his steward aside in mid-argument."What news from Helgen, stranger?" he encouraged neutrally. The woman stepped a pace closer and Balgruuf realised that she was probably a lot younger than she looked. _Seventeen perhaps?_ _But for the eyes… keeping too much in, guarding. Not trusting anyone_.

"Alvor … Riverwood … " she mumbled. Balgruuf leaned forward to hear better. "Helgen … dragon… " For a moment he saw her battling memories, dark ones, before her eyes focused somewhat again. "… heading this way… " she concluded, her light contralto wavering. Balgruuf scowled; she had obviously lived a slice of Oblivion and still appeared somewhat strong. _Appeared_. There's more to it. To her.

"You were right, Irileth," Baalgruuf sighed at his Housecarl and if she was vindicated at his words, her stony Dunmer features never allowed it to show. "Send a detachment of guards to Riverwood immediately – Alvor is the blacksmith there and a solid fellow. He will not exaggerate something like this." The young warrior in front of him looked lost in remembrance for a moment. _Alvor. The blacksmith. Kind words. Food. Shelter. Little girl offered her bed. Why?_ The Dunmer Housecarl flicked her closed right fist over her left breast and dipped her head in acknowledgement. She spun on her heel and left to obey, leaving the warrior alone in front of a pensive Jarl. _What to do with you?_

"You took the initiative and sought me out," he stated. His mild compliment did not register anything in her eyes as she waited blankly for him to finish. He signalled a servant who came forward with a tightly wrapped bundle.

"Please accept this as a token of my esteem." The young warrior took the proffered bundle automatically and he frowned in thought. _She is here, but… not. _"Will you be staying in our city for a while?" The girl shrugged listlessly and his frown deepened. _She does not care. What happened to her?_ He'd seen similar before after bandit pillages and rapes – either hysterical outrage and sorrow, or this. A mind that has closed itself off into morbid reflection, the subconscious protecting itself from matters not dealt with properly. _Is that it?_ He felt a brief and unexplainable pang of pity for her, but knew that he dared not voice it. _Distraction perhaps?_

"If it sits well with you, I would like you to stay, if only for a day or two," he offered. Her slumped shoulders stiffened somewhat in suspicion and he hastened to add, "as you are our only link with what happened at Helgen. You might remember more details after a night of rest and food, and I would not see you further your travels in your current state," he smiled gently, fatherly, to soften his words. Slight puzzlement squeezed her dainty brows together for a split second. _Why would he care?_ _Why would I want to remember?_ Terror flickered for a moment across her youthful features before being brutally shoved away again. _I will not remember_. Then the tenseness in her shoulders relaxed resignedly and she conceded to his wish with a barely perceptible nod. She took his answering nod as dismissal and swirled about, stalking off with a creak and swishing of boot and leathers.

Balgruuf sat in the same position for quite some time, repeating the brief encounter in his mind. She seemed to be in her own numb world, lost in it maybe. Not healthy. He had children already, three, younger than ten, and had no real experience with young people. They were hormonally complex, driven at times in their frantic quests to find their places and purposes in the world. They were so very easily misunderstood. Oversensitive at times. Especially the girls, he smirked good-naturedly. Then his expression turned sombre. Especially girls that had lived through some immense trauma. Why did this woman-girl-child intrigue him so, and how could he explain this unbidden need to protect her? From herself, mostly... She would most assuredly not appreciate unwanted protection from him. Besides, to have survived the chaos of a dragon attack, she would have had to have some skill. He had seen moments of youthful pride during her sullen exchange and a deep strength that gave him pause now, reflecting on it. It was buried under deep layers of suspicion and hurt though. He'd noticed her eyes darting about, measuring distances to others, imprinting exits and shadowed corners. Skittish almost, a sabrecat surrounded by bears. But sabrecats had claws and tempers, especially wounded desperate ones… He suddenly slapped his open palm against his forehead, then cringed as the circlet he wore dug into his skin. He had not even asked her name! By the Nine, where was his own mind!

His self-recrimination was disturbed by more servants shuffling in with the fare for the evening meals. Lightning flashed brilliantly through the skylights, shortly followed by a far-off clap and dull rumble. He ordered more wood to be put on the fire pit. Winter is going to be early this year. Change; not bad in itself, except when dragons were involved... Dragons! Of all the things the gods deemed appropriate to drag from history again. Then to loose them unto the snow-covered peaks of Skyrim… and unto the people of this hold. Why now? Why here? He sighed unhappily, washed his hands in the bowl provided by a willowy Nord servant and sat down to eat. His court unhurriedly filled the dining areaaround him. He listened absently to drones of conversation and picked at his food, not really feeling any enthusiasm to join in or to eat. Hopefully the girl could at least sell the armour he gave her for a bed and a bite to eat at the Mare. 

* * *

The girl absently picked her pack up outside the doors to Dragonsreach and slung it tiredly over one shoulder. She barely registered the brief flash of pain when the strap scraped over her dirty bandage. The top of the stairs going down toward the village gave her an unimpeded view over thatched roofs. Smoke curled into the rapidly darkening sky from stone chimneys. Were she so inclined, she would have noticed the dried-up Gildergreen reaching as if in the throes of a deathly thirst towards the rain-heavy clouds. A ring of benches, neat walkway and gently murmuring channel with decorated bridges surrounded the tree. A hooded priest stood gesticulating in front of a statue of Talos, his shouted message ambient noise. Mothers hustled about calling children back home. _Home? Where's my home?_

A guard bumped past her muttering an apology and she numbly descended the stairs, the next moment finding herself in a busy square. Merchants were frantically trying to sell the last of their wares before the impending rain would blanket the town. The rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil drew her further towards the entrance and she pushed through the door to Warmaiden's. As with most indoor spaces in Skyrim, the sudden gloom inside buildings forced her to pause and allow her eyes to adjust. She barely registered the proprietor's greeting, instead dropping her backpack and methodically placing scavenged pieces of armour and knives on the counter. For some reason, she hung onto the bundle given to her in Dragonsreach. The burly Nord behind the counter sorted uninterested through her items, named a price and she merely stuck her hand out to receive the clinking gold.

She noticed her surroundings again when a ponytailed Dunmer tried to interest her in freshly hunted meat. She stood with the gold still in her outstretched hand and blinked hard in confusion. _How did I get here?_ Her eyes caught a sign leading to an alchemist's shop and she entered, the heat from the hearth and pungent smell of drying herbs washing over her. She ambled up to the counter, the woman behind it appraising her with a worried look.

"You're looking a bit sick. Maybe…"

"Something. To stop pregnancy…" Judiiz interrupted. The apothecary, Arcadia, frowned and pushed herself away from her counter. Why would the girl want to do that? Children were a gift from … unless … she squinted in the low light from the hearth and looked closer at the girl. Ah yes, listless eyes, absent expression, torn armour and scuffs, some weeping still, all over. It was not the first time that a survivor of men's brutality had stumbled through her door. The girl avoided her sympathetic eyes and waited, gently swaying in exhaustion. Arcadia rummaged through her shelves, at last producing a small stoppered bottle with a swirling dark liquid inside. The younger girl held a palm full of gold out at her and she shook her head, gently pushing the bottle over the counter at her. She wordlessly took it, faintly thankful but unable to tolerate the understanding in the apothecary's eyes. Outside again, she registered the weathered sign of the Bannered Mare and she slogged that way blindly. The pattering rain signalled the start of a night-long thundershower. She bumped shoulders with exiting patrons and entered the brightly lit interior. A bard was singing a tune and some patrons were cheering and swinging tankards about to the rhythm, drunkenly trying to sing or in some cases dance along. Others sat murmuring to each other at tables, picking from worn wooden plates and trying their best not to be noticed.

A Redguard serving girl saw her standing forlornly at the entrance and after dropping platters of food at a nearby table approached her. The girl froze, her apprehension apparent, and the Redguard stopped a few paces away from her, giving her some space. Nords were such a suspicious bunch…

"Bed for the night? Something to eat?" she offered brightly. The girl nodded almost imperceptibly. The waitress beckoned the girl to follow her and pushed rowdy patrons out of her way, the girl following meekly in her wake. She opened the upstairs room and lit candles, bathing the simple room in flickering amber before reaching gently to the girl's elbow to direct her inside. The young girl recoiled violently and looked on the verge of scampering down the stairs again and disappearing into the night. The Redguard frowned, mildly offended."It's all right. Please, come in and sit. I will bring a bathing basin with hot water so you can clean up," she tried to soothe and the girl reluctantly eased herself into the room and onto the edge of the fur-covered bed. Her pack slid from her hands and dropped with a thud at her feet.

"I am Saadia. I won't be long," she reassured the girl and hurried toward the cooking area downstairs. She returned shortly with a platter of thinly sliced roasted goat, baked potatoes and grilled leeks and set it down on the small dresser next to the bed. When she returned again with the large basin, the girl was still sitting on the bed in the same spot. Her food was untouched, blank stare directed at the wall. Saadia made several more trips hauling hot water for the bath. Done, she left a hard cake of lavender scented tallow soap on a drying cloth at the foot of the bed. She fished around in the front pocket of her apron, produced the key to the room and handed it on her upturned palm to the girl carefully. The girl looked at Saadia's hand and the foreign object upon it, then she looked up into Saadia's deep brown eyes with the first hint of acknowledgement and a brief flash of appreciation.

"Here's the key to the room," Saadia stated. "I will be in the kitchen should you need anything." The girl snatched the key off her palm and clutched it in front of her chest. Her eyes followed Saadia as she left and closed the door behind her. She darted over, locked it, then stood in front of the steaming basin as if unsure what to do next. As if remembering it for the first time, she rummaged in her pack for the small bottle from the alchemist. She unstoppered it and drank it down promptly, not even grimacing at the foul taste. The bottle clunked on the timber floor from her limp fingers and she stripped the grimy armour off, discarding it where it fell. She stepped into the basin, barely noticing the scalding temperature, sank down into it and reached for the bar of soap. _I must clean myself. I'm dirty. They… made me dirty…_ _No. Do not remember! No no no…_ With wide eyes she started soaping herself between her dirt-stained legs and a soft pained mewl escaped her lips. It quickly escalated into an anguished wail as she scrubbed viciously at herself, water splashing out the basin onto the floor.

Outside her door, Saadia stood lost in thought for a moment. The girl was obviously distressed, traumatised more likely, was her guess. She certainly looked like hell and could use the bath … she started when the girl's agony reached her ears through the locked door. She lifted a hand to knock, to ask her if she needed help. She paused when she heard the girl's anguished fury dying down to hoarse sobs a while later, the sound of splashing water ending abruptly. Maybe it was better that she left her alone. She turned and silently padded downstairs. Through the evening's merriment though her eyes stole to the closed room at times and she made sure the girl was not disturbed. It was the least she could do.


	2. Chapter 2

Saadia woke with a groan at the sound of a key rattling in a lock. It was early dawn, faint light filtering in through opaque window glass. The fur over her numb legs had a clamminess to it; everything did after the rains and she hoped for sunshine before the town turned into a mud bath. The air was cold; she shivered a moment, and then pulled herself stiffly from the chair. She'd eventually fallen asleep in a lounger adjoining the guest bedroom. Some drunk revellers had become determined to check for themselves after she'd told them she had no rooms. Damn Nords and their mead! The guest room lock rattled again before easing open a crack. Saadia saw a brief flash of blood-red curls before the door promptly slammed shut again.

"Morning," she addressed the closed door softly. The door eased open again tentatively, wide enough for one ice blue eye to fix on her.

"Did you sleep any?" Saadia inquired gently. The blue gaze lowered to the floor at her feet. _No, then…_ Saadia sighed sympathetically. "Hungry?" A pause, then the red curls bobbed once. "I need to get the hearth going before the crowds arrive to break their fast. You can come and sit by me in the kitchen if you want." A longer pause followed then the door closed, opening moments later to admit the young owner of the curls. Saadia was stunned wordless at what a little water and soap had done to her. Her skin was pale, even for a Nord, sun-sprinkled with feint girlish freckles on each cheek. She had generous lips, red as a mountain flower. With her almond-shaped eyes she appeared elven, but… finer, delicate, regal. The girl gesturing feebly at the vacated room.

"No worries, I will clean it up later," Saadia assured her, understanding.

The girl followed her downstairs and plopped herself in a chair facing the hearth. Saadia busied herself stoking the fire and checking the pantry for supplies that would be needed shortly. She found some green apples that had not gone soft yet and brought these through, offering one to the girl. Her young guest looked at the apple that she'd taken in mild puzzlement before taking a tentative bite. Saadia cleared her throat softly.

"I don't know your name yet." The girl paused her chewing and her gaze turned inwards. _My name? I am…_ Her brow furrowed as if she found it hard to remember.

"Jud… Judiiz," she managed, her voice still slightly hoarse. _No doubt from last night_, Saadia thought.

"Judiiz," Saadia smiled. "Where from, Judiiz?" she prodded gently. The girl's eyes clouded over slightly. _Too soon.  
_  
"All right," Saadia murmured. "Do you have any plans for today?" Judiiz shrugged, chewing absently. She lifted a shoulder in the general direction of Dragonsreach.

"The… the Jarl? You're going to see him?" Another shrug. More chewing. _Not really a talker, eh?_ Saadia continued her preparations, occasionally offering bits of banter without really expecting any replies. She was not disappointed. Judiiz seemed a bit more relaxed though, her eyes following the Redguard as she performed her chores. The first customers had already entered and Saadia deposited a basket at the young girl's feet, filled with fruits, some vegetables and breads.

"I'd better go and see to people. Help yourself to this, you can't go around with nothing to eat." When she returned after taking some orders a while later, Judiiz was gone. The contents of the basket seemed less though and a small pile of coins was left on the chair she'd sat on. 

* * *

Judiiz had left Chillfurrow Farm behind and had just trudged past the Honningbrew Meadery when she became aware again of her surroundings. _I have to stop doing that!_ she berated herself. A Whiterun guard passed her, questioning if everything was all right. She froze, nodded absently and took a right turn up the winding return path to Riverwood. _Why am I going back?_ That morning, after leaving the Bannered Mare, she'd spotted the Jarl at the shrine to Talos. He'd seemed happy to see her for some reason. She'd followed him to the hold and he'd introduced her to his court wizard Farengar, after they'd watched another rather severe woman, _Delphine?_, stalking away in apparent frustration. Farengar had seemed equally frustrated, but had nonetheless given in to his Jarl's request to accept help in his search for an artifact called the Dragonstone. That had triggered scattered memories of the previous day; a giant just outside Chillfurrow Farm, an invitation from pale-eyed Companions, and Lucan Valerius of the Riverwood Trader lamenting the theft of a Golden Claw. Bleak Falls Barrow. Draugr, according to Hadvar, who'd helped her from… _there_… and had seemed kind enough. Judiiz shivered involuntarily. She might as well go to the Barrow. It was as good a place as any to… seek her release and leave this all behind. There were only more memories, more pain to return to whenever her mental guard dropped. Nobody would miss her. The heady aroma of smoking salmon reached her and she turned right once more, ignoring the bridge to Riverwood and headed further up the mountain.

Another stream of bile hit the word wall and Judiiz staggered blindly away from it. She managed a raw scream of agony and frustration before her calves hit the edge of the sarcophagus and she sat down, fell down, the backs of her thighs slapping against the grimy stone floor. She was bawling incoherently and rubbing at her eyes with trembling hands. _Why didn't I just die? I wanted to! Now I'm still alive and blind!_ She stopped rubbing at her streaming eyes when she started seeing shapes again, but it took a while for the flaming… word… _was it a word?._.. to clear from her vision. The nausea took decidedly longer. She hissed when burning pain from the vicious slash in her left thigh flared up. The last draugr had… _shouted?_... at her, slamming her jarringly into the word wall. Before that, she'd thrown herself at the others, even the bandits before and just after entering the Barrow. None of them had finished her off. This last mockery of life had advanced on her after she'd crumpled at the base of the wall. On reflex, she'd notched an arrow and sent it flying; the arrow had pierced the draugr's ragged nasal opening and now protruded from the rotting skull. But before toppling it had hacked into her thigh in its last throes. She tried desperately to push the edges of the seeping wound together, her hands shaking uncontrollably. _Maybe I should just leave it. Sit back, bleed out…_ As if to deny her this mercy, she noticed old rolls of fabric on the other side of the stone coffin. Wedged in between was a flat stone, incomprehensible scribbles on one polished side. The Dragonstone! She scooted over and ripped strips of cloth from a roll, then tied them tightly around her leg. The stone went in her backpack and clunked against the claw, its golden sheen dulled by time. At least Riverwood was not far. The word came back to her, burnt into the back of her mind, as she stumbled upright and tested her weight on her leg. Fus. _Was that it? Fus?_ The word had resonated with something deep within her soul. That something had provided immediate translation for the word: Force. But… force. What force? She shook her head, not understanding any of it yet. Later. Time to leave. She set her discarded bow on her back again and limped up the stairs to what she presumed was an exit from this tomb.

Lucan had been overjoyed at the return of his claw, rewarding her handsomely. His sister Camilla had provided her with a few vials of healing potions. It had foamed and seared her flesh before knitting the ragged edges of her thigh-wound together in a pink line of new skin. It had been close to midday when Judiiz had handed the stone to Farengar, much to his delight. Shortly afterwards, the Jarl's housecarl had rushed in with news of a dragon attack. For some reason Judiiz had been involved in the ensuing discussion with Balgruuf and had been roped into investigating the attack. All she'd wanted to do was lie down in a corner and cry herself to sleep.

She now found herself hunched behind a rock outcropping with Irileth, a bunch of sweating guards too close for comfort behind her.

"I don't see the dragon, but it's obvious that it's been here," Irileth grumbled. The area around the Western Watchtower was still ablaze in areas. Acrid sulphur stung noses and eyes. Judiiz found it oddly comfortable, familiar. She ran after the Dunmer and ducked behind ancient fallen columns for cover, watching the sky. Movement from the tower's doorway drew them there and they bundled inside. They found a near-hysterical guard, soot-blackened and wide-eyed.

"What happened here? Quickly now!" Irileth demanded impatiently.

"What are you doing here, it took Tor! It could be back any moment!"

Judiiz felt everything around her dimming. The shouting, the crackling of burning rubble and field; all slowly muted until only her own heartbeat drummed in her ears. She stepped from the tower entrance with the treacle-slowness of a dream and it seemed a lifetime to her before her eyes were drawn south, up to the mountains. With outstretched wings cupping the air skilfully, head tilted slightly to keep an eye on the advancing ground, the dragon was the most magnificent creature she'd ever seen! Her eyes welled up in mute wonder, following its bank and lazy circle around the tower. It drew its majestic horned head back and lay down a path of fire towards her, roaring triumphantly. Judiiz' eyes widened at the advancing inferno, unable to move. _This is it. Finally, it's over!_ She nearly lost her footing when a furious Housecarl ripped her back inside the tower and slammed her against the wall.

"What's wrong with you, girl!"

Judiiz blinked rapidly, slowly coming back to her senses. Irileth let her go and rushed outside. The guards followed reluctantly. "Find cover!" she roared, not waiting to see if the guards obeyed her. "Make every arrow count!"  
Something… _snapped_ inside Judiiz and the next moment she felt near uncontrollable fury.

_My territory! Mine!_

She screamed an incoherent challenge and dashed outside, arrow notched to bowstring and scanning the sky for her quarry. _Her prey_. The dragon swooped down, landing with jarring thunder and snapped a guard in mid-air leaping from rubble. The hapless guard's scream was viciously cut off when the dragon shook him brutally and cast him aside. It took to the air again, wing beats buffeting the ground. Still screaming her rage, Judiiz let her arrow fly blindly. It caught the dragon in the first joint on a wing. It roared its pain and cocked its head. Split amber eye met furious blue. The dragon coughed roughly and a searing fireball roared at her. She leapt from its path and came up running, arrow tracking. Other arrows buzzed at the creature, some finding their mark and it bellowed in surprise. Judiiz shrieked mindlessly when it gained altitude outside her range. As if hearing her, the dragon banked and came straight at her. It opened its toothed maw to roar fire. At that moment, Judiiz released her arrow. The dragon seemed to inhale it. It went straight through the roof of its mouth, slamming home in its brain.

"Dovahkiin! Nid!" the dragon almost sighed before it sailed over her. It rammed into the ground just behind her, the impact's shockwave tumbling her into the course tundra grass.

Resounding silence settled, broken a moment later by a Whiterun guard raising his bow triumphantly and roaring, "We did it! We killed a dragon!" Other cries joined his and they all ran at the fallen bulk to see it up close. Judiiz whimpered in pain when her broken left wrist failed under her. Agony stabbed through her chest on that side. She grimaced; ribs were probable broken. She pushed herself up awkwardly and stumbled groggily towards the dragon. _She had to see. It was calling her_. At her approach, eldritch flame suddenly erupted on the dragon's outstretched wings, quickly spreading all over it. The guards stepped back in apprehension. Dazed, Judiiz crumpled to her knees in front of the conflagration. Muted thunder built to a crescendo, then tendrils of light sprang from the dragon and seized her. Her back arched and she screamed soundlessly at the sky with outstretched arms.  
_  
Mirmulnir!  
_  
Ancient knowledge tore through her soul, white hot agony that had no end until she thought she could not take it anymore. Then it ebbed with whispered wisdom, forever chained inside her. She collapsed forward. Drained. Filled. Irileth lunged forward and turned her gently onto her back. Judiiz looked up into a ring of worried faces.

"Are you all right?"

"You're… Dragonborn!"

"Can you Shout?"

Judiiz struggled feebly to get upright but Irileth pushed her back down again, gently but insistently. Judiiz' eyes abruptly rolled back, whites showing, and she convulsed once. She felt the dragon's soul still pulling at her, curious, questing, before it settled and melded with her own. It felt… alien, but right, as if her own soul had recognised itself for the first time.

"The Dragonborn of old could shout without training!"

"You took its very soul!"

"Can you do it? Can you Shout?" the guards still assaulted her with anxious questions. The prone girl's eyes rolled back and focused again. They were all crowding her. She felt unfamiliar power building within her. Her expression turned panicky.

_Everyone was too close!_

_Stop questioning me!_

_Stand back._

_Now!_

"**FUS**!"

Her Shout was directed at the sky but it was enough to stagger Irileth and the guards backward in passing. Subdued thunder rumbled ominously and a ring of warped air dispersed above their heads. Judiiz gasped sharply against the grinding pain of her ribs, and then promptly fainted. The guards looked at each other wide-eyed, then one muttered wryly, "Now that was a Shout!"

"Cloak. Now!" Irileth barked. A guard spread his on the ground and they shifted Judiiz' limp form onto it. They hoisted her up between them.

"Gods, she weighs almost nothing!" one of them remarked. "How can this be the Dragonborn of legend?"

"I suggest you all stop flapping your tongues about things you know nothing about," Irileth reprimanded them sternly. "For now, I know we've got a dead dragon and the girl who managed that is seriously injured. Back to the Jarl, with haste!" They'd just reached the junction to Whiterun when the air around them seemed to contract, and then expand with a thundering "DOHAVKIIN!" as if shouted by many voices at once. _That came from the mountain_, Irileth noted and her concern deepened. 

* * *

Balgruuf took one look at the girl and paled.

"Upstairs, my quarters," he ordered and Irileth took a corner of the bunched cloak from a guard.

"To the temple. Summon Danica Pure-Spring," she commanded him grimly. The guard turned on his heel and loped from the hold.

It was two hours later when the doors to the Jarl's quarters opened. A tired Priestess found Balgruuf still pacing anxiously. She closed the doors softly behind her and sighed.

"She is resting now. Most of the ribs on her left side were broken. None had pierced her lung though but by Kynareth, it was close. Left wrist was also broken and she had various scrapes and bruises." The Jarl let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Can I see her? I will not tarry." Danica nodded her agreement, slung her bag of supplies over a shoulder and departed quietly, bowing slightly in passing. Balgruuf entered the room on tip-toe, left the door slightly ajar and knelt down at the side of the bed. _She looks so small. Just a little girl!_ he thought with a start, puzzled at himself. One bruised shoulder was visible above the furs and her red curls were fanned over the pillow in disarray. On impulse his hand strayed to her temple and he allowed one finger to caress the downy hair there. He frowned in confusion when a small cold hand crept from the furs and gripped his weakly.

"_Bormah_…" she whispered, a brief frown crossing her pale features before her hand fell back again limply. Balgruuf swallowed against the curious tightness in his throat. _Bormah. What could it mean?  
_  
"Rest now, young one," he murmured and her troubled expression relaxed.  
_We shall speak in the morning._


	3. Chapter 3

Days started early in the Jarl's hold. Servants moved about dusting and wiping, blearily still rubbing sleep from their eyes. Ash was scraped from the central fire pit and fresh logs were piled and lit with a dash of lamp oil. It was still early in the seasons' turning but the stone floor had already begun storing the nights' chills. Sconces in dark corners were re-lit with fresh fuel and soon the voluminous space in the hold felt more accommodating.

Judiiz woke with a start, her eyes darting around in confusion. _What am I doing here? Where is here_? Moments in time from the day before slowly returned to her, as if from a fevered dream. She tensed slightly. Bleak Falls Barrow. The Western Watchtower. _Divines, we killed a dragon!_ she thought, perplexed at a twinge of sorrow. She recalled vague impressions afterwards of being jostled about as if carried, pain in every small movement. Dovahkiin! She'd heard that word again, uttered by Milmurnir before his death. From that point her memories became muddled; the Jarl's worried face, a woman in long robes removing her armour, relief from warmly glowing hands, gentle words that had followed her into the oblivion of sleep. Understanding dawned; she was in the Jarl's quarters! She glanced about with renewed interest. The room was not too opulent. Items were of high quality, but simple and sturdy. Much like Balgruuf, and one corner of her lips tugged into a fond smile. There was something there, some growing connection against her… revulsion of people after Helgen. Her mental barriers sprang up with a snap. Helgen, and most importantly _before_, can wait. The furs had a manly scent, but it did not evoke terror in her. It almost smelt… safe.

For the first time she took stock of herself. She threw the warm furs aside, finding herself naked. Her ribcage was blotched in fading yellows but the pain was gone. She flexed her wrist experimentally and although some stiffness was evident, it was usable. New skin dotted her in the places of scrapes and cuts. The glowing hands; magic had healed her. More importantly; she felt strong, invigorated! Her morbid thoughts even seemed… less so. How? Judiiz shivered suddenly at the cold radiating from the stone floor. She spotted folded items of clothing on the ornate chest at the foot of the bed. She padded over and sorted through them briefly; some clean smallclothes, two padded tunics, matching breeches and a sabre fur vest. She got dressed quickly, foregoing the breast-band; she's never needed one, and wriggled her toes experimentally in the doeskin boots topped with rabbit fur. Satisfied, she brushed her fingers through her curls, trying to restore some semblance of dignity. Her pack stood upright next to the door. Her coin was still there, along with a dagger, some stale bread and an apple. There was no sign of her bow and quiver. Puzzled, she slung it over her shoulder and made her way through the small private dining area down to the big hall.

Balgruuf saw her entering meekly from the corner of his eyes and his conversation with his brother Hrongar fell silent. She's up? How is that even possible?

"You should be resting!" he berated her worriedly. "Irileth, get Danica here. I'm sure…"

"I'm… fine," Judiiz blurted. She cleared her throat self-consciously and stepped closer to the throne. Balgruuf didn't look convinced at all, but signalled Irileth to stay.

"You had ribs broken, a wrist as well, and were probably thrown about like a rag-doll yesterday. How can you…" He stilled when the girl lifted the edge of her tunic, showing only indistinct bruises on protruding ribs. _That's fast healing!_ he thought in confusion, also noticing that she was just about skin and bone.

"I'm better," the girl reassured him, her voice a bit stronger. He relented and sat back reluctantly against the throne's backrest.

"Irileth here has not exactly been forthcoming," he mock-glared at his Housecarl, "so if you don't mind, I would know everything that happened. First though, I would have your name." The Dunmer straightened a bit, expression stony as ever. She'd gone back the day before after returning the injured girl to inspect the dragon's corpse again and collect the remaining guards there.

"I… it is Judiiz." Balgruuf nodded for her to continue. "We… we killed the dragon." Judiiz noticed a brief look of irritation crossing his features; of course, he'd know that at least. "I absorbed… something from it," she hastened to add and Balgruuf took a breath in sharply.

"So it is true. The Greybeards really were summoning you," he exhaled in awe. Judiiz' brows knit in confusion. "Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" Balgruuf queried incredulously.

"My lord, she may have been unconscious at the time," Irileth supplied helpfully. Balgruuf grunted noncommittally. Comprehension had emerged in Judiiz' eyes though. _Summons. As if shouted from afar… _"_Dovahkiin_," she whispered to herself.  
Balgruuf caught it though. "_That_ was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar!" He rubbed his chin pensively. "This hasn't happened in ... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!" Judiiz looked anxious suddenly, eyes scanning for exits.

"Greybeards?" she peeped.

"The Greybeards are masters of the Way of the Voice. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift," Balgruuf answered softly, trying to reassure her. "The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice - the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout," he tried to explain. Judiiz' knees nearly buckled at this. _Shout. Fus. Dragonborn._ It all suddenly made some twisted unbelievable sense. Not noticing her unease, Balgruuf cleared his throat officiously.

"Twice now, you have done me and my city a great service. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It is the greatest, but not only honour that's within my power to grant you." He beckoned to his steward who shuffled closer. "Proventus, I'm entitling the Dragonborn to purchase Breezehome, by full- or down payment, but available for her use immediately. I also assign Lydia as her personal Housecarl. A weapon from my own armoury will serve as her badge of office." The balding steward hid his surprise well, bowed deeply and hurried off. "Irileth," the Jarl continued, "Notify the guards of her new title. We wouldn't want…" It was then that he noticed Judiiz swaying somewhat before she dry-heaved convulsively.

Her pack dropped at her feet, forgotten. He lunged forward and gripped her elbow in support, and was surprised when she didn't recoil from him. He made soothing sounds as he led her to a chair at the long dining table and made her sit down.

"Bring food and water. Then everyone leave," he ordered, not harshly, to no one in particular. "My apologies, Drag… er, Judiiz," he offered her sheepishly and sat down opposite her. Food and a pitcher of water were placed between them and then they found themselves alone. Judiiz looked close to embarrassed tears and he tentatively placed his calloused fingers over hers. She started, but didn't pull away.

"I had not taken into account what the last few days must have been like for you," Balgruuf tried to explain. "It was not my wish to overwhelm you." Judiiz shook her head, angry at her own weakness.

"No, young one. Don't be hard on yourself," he interpreted the gesture correctly. "For now, forgive an old man's foolishness and indulge him with your company at breakfast." She withdrew her hand from under his, wiped at her eyes and a hesitant smile pulled at her generous lips.

"Not old," she murmured. Balgruuf was curiously buoyed to see that tiniest hint of a smile and his eyes twinkled. He huffed good-naturedly.

"If I was as old as I felt on some days, I wouldn't be walking around!" he joked, broadening her hesitant smile. _Her eyes remain veiled in sorrow, though_, he thought sadly.

"One question, if I may?" he asked tentatively. Judiiz nodded minutely. "What does _Bormah_ mean?" Judiiz turned pensive and then she suddenly blushed furiously. It had promptly returned to her; the fuzzy feeling of safety before she'd succumbed to sleep, gentle words that had made her wish for something she'd never had. Did she call him… _Oh, please, I hope I didn't call him…  
_  
"Father. Papa," she whispered, totally flustered. Balgruuf smiled gently, trying his best not to make anything of it. He gestured at her plate.

"Come, let's try and eat. You will need it. It is not wise to keep the Greybeards waiting for long." 

* * *

Breezehome was… incredible! After Lydia had introduced herself, they'd crossed the city and opened the door to the place together. It'd had a closed-in mustiness to it. Cobwebs had reflected silvery from corners and everything had a fine sheen of dust on it. There was no fire in the little central hearth, no food on the shelves and no books on the bookcases, but… it was incredible! It was hers! The thought of coming home, _home!_, to it after a day out had pushed the dark thoughts in the recesses of her mind further back momentarily. Lydia had insisted on overseeing the cleaning and stocking. Judiiz had handed her half the money she'd managed to collect over the last few days and had watched the broad-shouldered Nord leave on her errands. Then she'd turned towards the city exit to find the travelling Khajiit merchants her new Housecarl had mentioned. They might have some wares cheaper than she'd find in the markets.

Outraged hissing and yowling accompanied by muttered curses and grunts from guards met her as she arrived at the Khajiit temporary camp outside the city gates. Three guards were desperately trying to restrain a stringy young Khajiit female with limited success. One guard barely missed a swipe from her claws before one of the others grabbed her arm, only to have his feet swept out from under him by her leg. The others lost their balance and fell away from her. She adopted a fighting stance strangely familiar to Judiiz; balancing lightly on one foot, other leg raised, opposing arm stretched out in front of her palm forward, other arm behind her, claws exposed.

"Who's next?" she whooped in a surprisingly clear voice, unlike her more raspy brethren. She was about to dart off when Judiiz' hasty Shout staggered her backwards in a swirl of dust. She shook her head and muttered an acerbic "Ow!". The dust cleared on a red-headed Nord, back leg bent slightly, front leg straight out in front of her, one dainty fist pointing at her and the other cocked under her shoulder. She dusted herself and adopted her stance again.

"Ooh, want to play?" she taunted and lunged. The redhead dodged sideways and returned a jab. Hmm, she's fast! the Khajiit grimaced, blocking the blow skilfully and dancing back. Passers-by had gathered to watch as the two girls circled each other wearily. The Khajiit feinted and spun in a roundhouse kick. The redhead ducked and swept her own leg around. It caught the Khajiit by surprise, breath exploding from her lungs as she slammed down. She looked up in time to see the redhead pouncing through the air. Judiiz landed with her feet on either side of the Khajiit and she pulled her punch just short of connecting, kneeling on her chest. Onlookers cheered as the Khajiit submitted resignedly. Judiiz blinked hard, then looked at her hands in astonishment. _What was that?_

The guards closed in and hauled the Khajiit girl to her feet. "You fight like the Rimmen," she muttered grudgingly at the Nord girl. Judizz' eyes went wide as if a hidden memory had come to her. _I do_, she thought in wonder.

"Thank you for the help, Thane," a guard ground out, still shaken at the speed and ferocity of what he'd witnessed. He tied the Khajiit's hands behind her back, mindful of her retracted claws.

"W... wait! Crime?" Judiiz blurted, cursing her inability to voice her thoughts. It used to be different before Helgen, before…

"She stole food from Ahkari, the caravan leader…"

"And she wears no Budi! Look at all that fur! It is… scandalous!" a tiger-striped female shouted indignantly, gesturing at the younger Khajiit's scant armour. The male next to her, presumably Ahkari, nodded in agreement.

"We are not in Torval, Zaynabi!" the bound girl spat. She struggled feebly against the guards. Judiiz had lost her puzzled look. Crime or not, the cat-girl had mentioned Rimmen and the word had triggered another torrent of suppressed memories. She needed to know more.

"I… er, I will…" she stammered, gesturing in the general direction of Dragonsreach.

"You will take her up to the Jarl, Thane?" the guard behind the Khajiit supplied. Judiiz nodded gratefully at him. The guard looked at his fellows, shrugged and allowed Judiiz to pull the girl from them and after her, back to the city.

"Why are we stopping here?" the Khajiit wanted to know when they entered Breezehome and she sneezed explosively from the dust in the air. Judiiz pushed her in further and closed the door behind them. The Khajiit eyed her with suspicion and suddenly Judiiz didn't know if this was a good idea.

"Well?" the Khajiit prompted.

"Er… Rimmen?" Judiiz managed, fidgeting slightly. Cat-eyes narrowed momentarily, then widened in understanding.

"Oh yes. I said you fight like the Rimmen." Judiiz bobbed her head and gestured awkwardly at her to continue. "What, you want to hear about the Rimmen?" Judiiz nodded eagerly and the Khajiit sighed.

"The Rimmen are the descendants of the Akaviri," she started in a monotone as if reciting it from a book. "They were refugees fleeing persecution. The Khajiit granted them asylum in the hills and steppes of North-western Elsweyr." Judiiz made an impatient sound and the Khajiit girl looked at her in irritation. "What?" Judiiz gestured with a fist, then threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Ohh, the fighting! They have a special form of unarmed combat, very useful to someone with only claws for weapons. I ran with them for a while and they taught me some. Very good for protecting myself in Secunda!" she smirked toothily. "Why?" Judiiz looked more excited as memories slowly came back to her. She gestured again, unable to vocalise her thoughts.

"Yes? Yes?" the Khajiit prompted her excitedly.

"Er… family…" she tried and the bound girl cocked her head sideways, perplexed.

"Ugh! _Vik nii_!" Judiiz barked in frustration. She blanched and looked comically confused. _What? Where did that come from?_ The Khajiit cackled at her expression and she glowered at her.

"Hah! You can't talk otherwise, but the Dragontongue flows easy? _Damn it_ indeed!"

"How…?" Judiiz stammered.

"The Rimmen had books. I read," the other girl stated as if this explained everything. "How is it that you know the Dragontongue though?"

"Not know… it comes…" Judiiz tried to explain. The Khajiit cocked her head the other way and uttered a very intelligent "Huh?" with one furry eyebrow cocked. Judiiz huffed, stepped around her and cut her bonds.

"Name?" she queried. The Khajiit rubbed her wrists absently, then bowed with a flourish and proclaimed, "You are speaking to Harasha Saratanill Marahhirn." She straightened. Judiiz scowled and raised one eyebrow. The Khajiit's bravado sagged with her shoulders. "Rasha," she muttered, looking crestfallen.

"Judiiz," the Nord girl supplied. "Come," she bid, opening the door of her home.

"Wait, where are we supposedly going?" Rasha asked hurrying after her.

"High Hrothgar."


	4. Chapter 4

After they'd compared supplies with Lydia, Judiiz and Rasha had packed for the journey and promptly left. They'd inquired from Skulvar Sable-Hilt at the Whiterun Stables about horses but had found that they couldn't afford a thousand gold for the only seven year old mare for sale. On foot, they'd just passed the Honningbrew Meadery, the great grain mill at Chillfurrow Farm turning languidly in the light breeze, when the first wolf had attacked them. With the two of them, it was not much of a challenge. South-east from there they'd investigated a small inscription on the map Lydia had supplied them with called White River Watch. The bandits around a cave entrance had not been very alert and Judiiz had stealthily dispatched them with her bow, Rasha crouched impatiently next to her with her tail whipping from side to side.

The cave had yielded a blind watchman whom they spared, more bandits, a caged wolf and a sizable amount of gold. Importantly, they'd also filled a sack with enough supplies in the form of fresh vegetables and rabbits hanging from a rack as well as a small cast iron pot for cooking. They were now better stocked for the journey than when they'd left Whiterun. They'd also found an odd sword, more like an heirloom than a frequently used weapon and taken it with them. They'd continued following the road further north east until they'd found the crossroads to the Ritual Stone that Lydia had mentioned to them. Turning in the opposite direction, they'd carefully skirted a Stormcloak camp they'd found nestled in a protective basin against the mountain. Judiiz had been visibly tense and agitated and Rasha had wondered silently at her behaviour. The afternoon had been spent following a winding path up the mountainside and Judiiz had often thought them lost. Rasha had seemed confident enough though after Judiiz had informed her that their destination was Ivarstead, so they'd continued. It had started turning dark as the path crested, so they'd decided to make camp with a sheer rock face at their backs and unobstructed views eastward and westward down the road.

The aroma of rabbit stew was heady and for the first time in a while, Judiiz actually felt hungry. Their bedrolls were set out on either side of their small fire and Rasha was busy stirring their supper.

"Hmm, rabbit stew!" she purred and licked her lips, "I haven't had a good meal in a while…" Judiiz looked up inquiringly from sorting her pack and Rasha noticed the questions in her eyes.

"Oh, I've been traveling from place to place for a while, living off what I could scrounge, or handouts and such," Rasha clarified, her slitted eyes distant. Judiiz raised one eyebrow and motioned with her hand.

"What, start from the beginning?" Rasha interpreted the gesture. Judiiz raised both eyebrows this time.

"How do you…"

"Know what you want to say?" Rasha smiled toothily. Judiiz nodded, shifted her pack to the head of her bedroll and settled, legs crossed and eyeing the Khajiit expectantly. Rasha finished her stirring and replaced the lid on the little pot over the coals. She crouched back on her haunches.

"You learn to read people when your survival depends on it. It is best to read a man's intent before his knife leaves its sheath, or before he clouts you with one hand after offering food with the other." She nodded sagely. "Or when a group of men corner you and you can see that they don't just want to admire your weapons." Judiiz turned pale at the last bit and turned her gaze away. Rasha studied her for a bit. _Sensitive point, the last one_, she thought.

"You are very expressive, even though you don't say much. I'll probably have to brush up on my dragon language skills if you should suddenly lapse into it…" She dodged a dish-rag thrown at her playfully and snickered. "Anyway," she continued, "My journey started in Elsweyr, unlike some of the half-baked Khajiit in this country." She got up fluidly and served them both some steaming stew on two wooden plates. They settled to eat companionably.

"Good…" Judiiz managed around a mouthful and Rasha bowed from the waist, trying not to spill the contents of her own plate.

"Why, thank you milady!" Rasha said in her best tavern wench imitation. "I was told that I was born in Torval, that is the home of the Mane, the ruler of Elsweyr," Rasha explained between further bites. "It is said that his palace is beautiful, built from Valenwood oak with sugarcane gardens surrounding it on all sides." Judiiz nodded appreciatively. "Unfortunately, nobody but Khajiit have ever seen it. All others, especially the races of men, are kept away from the palace grounds by the Warrior Guard. They are not what they used to be though, most are sugar-addled half the time," she smirked. "I was an unwanted child of some noble. Unwanted, because I am one of the very few Khajiit who can do magic." She demonstrated by conjuring humming electrical tendrils of energy around her hand. Judiiz watched in wonder, her eyes wistful.

"No magic?" Rasha asked, extinguishing her little display. Judiiz shook her head.

"Well then, because of my fabulous gift bestowed by the ever so benevolent gods, I was left in the desert and a chieftain of one of the passing nomadic tribes picked me up and raised me. They were good to me. We traded frequently with the Rimmen and that is where I learnt to meditate, control my magic and to fight of course." She collected Judiiz' empty plate, wiped them with the previously thrown dish-rag and stowed them in her own pack. She tossed the rag into the fire and it flared brightly for a moment before turning to ash.

"I got separated from the tribe by a bunch of sugar-drunk cutthroats in Senchal. It is one of the worst places in Elsweyr, but it has the most amazing bazaars, taverns and open markets, not to mention the merchant quarters. They dragged me to Black Keirgo, Senchal's most squalid and dangerous quarter." Judiiz was rapt, but she shivered involuntarily at her new friend's last words.

"Oh, don't worry. I sorted them out well and good," Rasha reassured her with a wolfish grin. "Lifted all their fat coin pouches off them as well, enough to buy me passage with one of the better sea captains of the Topal Sea. We sailed north into Cyrodill, past Leyawiin and Bravil and made landfall at the Imperial city. I never entered the city though. I made straight for Bruma and crossed the border into Skyrim near the ruins of Arcwind Point. I carried on past Ivarstead and took the long road around this very mountain on my way to Whiterun. That is when I met up with the caravan of my very hospitable countrymen and that is when I met you!" she finished with a flourish. Judiiz plotted her route to Skyrim in her mind, then remembered her own route and she shut her train of thought off. Rasha settled herself on her bedroll, leaning on one elbow and her amber eyes glinted with the firelight between them. Judiiz cleared her throat softly.

"Why…" she asked, gesturing around at their small campsite and herself.

"Why come with you? Why not just leave?" Rasha finished for her and Judiiz nodded. Conversation was so much easier when someone instinctively knew what she wanted to say…

"I've asked myself that on the way to this cosy little camp of ours. I was free from the Whiterun guards the moment we left. I could have gone my own way hours ago."

"You are… free to go," Judiiz stated. Rasha gasped teasingly.

"My word, that is the most I've heard you say so far!" Judiiz blushed, but smiled nonetheless. "Perhaps that is why I've stayed, because you have not kept me here. And where would I go? You are the only person in Skyrim that I've known for more than a day." Rasha jumped up lithely and stood with her fists on her hips, her tail an elegant sickle behind her.

"Besides, you are a great warrior on a quest to find out what your true purpose is! How can I not be interested?" She stretched one arm out to the stars. "True glory awaits us after a journey of battles, soul searching and many more pots of rabbit stew!" Judiiz fell over in a fit of giggles and Rasha plopped herself down with a huge smile. "And I had a feeling that you needed some cheering up," she added, then immediately regretted it. Judiiz' mirth died down and she sat up slowly, then hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the dying coals. Perhaps that was what she needed, but how does one cheer up after… what happened to her? How long will this shadow hang over her? Why did she happen to be… there, at that specific time? Needing to explain, to say something, she opened her mouth but Rasha interrupted her gently.

"Don't force it, Judiiz. I can only guess that there is something that happened to you that left its mark on you. Such things take time. When you are truly ready, I will listen. For now, I will take the first watch. You, get some sleep," she admonished with a wagging finger. Two ice-blue eyes shone appreciation and Rasha nodded, satisfied, although she realised that throughout their conversation, she'd only spoken about herself and still knew nothing about her companion…

* * *

They crested a last hill the next day before Ivarstead suddenly lay before them. Judiiz looked about for any signposts, and at last decided to approach a Nord and a Bosmer chatting amiably on a bridge spanning the river bordering the little hamlet. It turned out that the Nord, Klimmek, frequently travelled all the way up to High Hrothgar with supplies for the Greybeards. Judiiz and Rasha offered to take the bag of provisions for him and he gave them directions and a friendly warning about wolves on the trail. Halfway up, after killing two wolves that attacked them, they stopped to allow their quivering legs a rest. It was high enough for snow to be piled on the ground and they both started shivering after a while. They decided to move on and after a big scare from a frost troll, they reached their destination. High Hrothgar had a great tower in the centre with steps leading up either side of it. On the right it almost seemed part of the dark mountain rock and on the left it was built right to the edge of a vertical drop. A blizzard had started and Judiiz was thankful when the ornately patterned heavy copper doors shut the cold out behind them.

"Akaviri," Rasha whispered to her, indicating intricately carved designs on the walls and pillars. The air was comfortable inside, no doubt from various braziers burning where the area opened into a high ceilinged foyer. Two bearded and hooded figures ambled down steps toward them and Judiiz stepped forward hesitantly.

"So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age," one of them intoned gravelly, aloof and sounding somewhat distrustful. Judiiz fidgeted self-consciously and nodded. Behind her, Rasha's mouth dropped open in consternation. Dragonborn! _Holy sugar!_ Why didn't the girl tell her that? Is that what Judiiz did in Whiterun? Shouted at her? Judiiz could have killed her!

"Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?" the Greybeard asked impatiently.

"To… to…" Judiiz tried, her frustration with herself becoming evident again.

"First, let us see if you truly are Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice," the Greybeard interrupted her. Can this stringy skittish girl be the Dragonborn? A look of concern crossed the girl's features and he sighed condescendingly. "Do not fear, we will not be harmed. Shout for us, we will see if you truly have the gift." _All right then_, Judiiz thought. _You asked for it!_ She inhaled deeply, her eyes went distant briefly as she focused and then her Shout staggered the two bearded men backwards, their robes billowing. She smiled inwardly at their astonished expressions.

"Dragonborn. It is you," the lead Greybeard murmured and inclined his head respectfully. "Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards." Judiiz visibly relaxed.

"How… why…," she just about pleaded, indicating herself. Arngeir smiled kindly.

"No doubt you have many questions. There is indeed much that we know that you do not. We will try to answer your questions, but that does not mean that you are ready to understand it," he supplied cryptically. "As Dragonborn, you have received the ability to Shout directly from Akatosh. We will therefore seek to guide you on the proper use of your gift, which transcends the restrictions which bind other mortals."

"Restrictions?" Judiiz frowned. Arngeir nodded wisely.

"The Dragonborn is an exception to all the rules - the Dragon Blood itself is a gift from Akatosh."

As Arngeir continued to explain various aspects of the Voice and being Dragonborn, Judiiz felt something starting to awaken in her. It swelled steadily, tried to reassure her that Arngeir's words were true until she felt them to be so. She was … more than mortal men. She had a destiny, even though she didn't quite know yet what it was! Master Arngeir's words brought her back to the present.

"Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout, with _Fus_, meaning Force, the first part of the complete Unrelenting Force Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn more." He stepped back and allowed the other attending Greybeard to take his place. "Master Einarth will now teach you _Ro_, the second Word in Unrelenting Force." Master Einarth whispered the word of power and a deep rumbling followed in its wake. Judiiz was drawn like a moth to flame where the word shimmered on the stone floor. Her soul recognised the word with ease and she was surprised and grateful when none of the previous nausea followed its reading. Master Einarth imparted his understanding of the word upon her and she mouthed the two words together softly. She was surprised to notice that two other Greybeards had joined them quietly.

"Use both _Fus_ and _Ro_. Together, they will make the Shout more powerful," Arngeir continued. "We will provide targets. Strike the targets as they appear." He noticed Judiiz'nervousness. "Breath … and focus," he reminded her softly and she tried to ready herself. After striking the spectral targets provided by the Greybeards, she sighed and smiled, quite proud of herself.

"Impressive," Arngeir remarked. "Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn." Judiiz beamed at the praise. "Master Borri has agreed to teach you the first Word of a new Shout. We will perform this next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri," he instructed, indicating one of the men with a frizzy length of beard.

After learning the first word of Whirlwind Sprint, _Wuld_, Judiiz felt something in her change again. This is what she was meant for! She recognised each new teaching as if the knowledge had already been inside her, it had just needed to be awakened. She _felt_ her soul for the first time in her life, felt it warming and soothing her and she allowed it to flood her being. She had the soul and blood of a dragon! She was a dragon! Elated, she realised that her trials before and during Helgen could be overcome by this, given time.

"You are now ready for your last trial," Master Arngeir proclaimed as Masters Borri, Wulfgar and Einarth made their way back into High Hrothgar. "You are to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav." He marked the location on her map and her brow furrowed.

"Who was he, Master?" she inquired softly. She smiled inwardly. _Speaking is becoming easier…_

"He was a great war leader of the ancient Nords, a master of the Voice, or Tongue," Arngeir elaborated. "After the disaster at Red Mountain, where the Nord army was annihilated, he spent many years pondering the meaning of that terrible defeat. He finally came to realize that the gods had punished the Nords for their arrogant and blasphemous misuse of the Voice. He was the first to understand that the Voice should be used solely for the glory and worship of the gods, not the glory of men."

"That … would be a good Way," Judiiz said more to herself. Arngeir nodded, pleased.

"Yes. Jurgen Windcaller's mastery of the Voice eventually overcame all opposition, and the Way of the Voice was born. It is the way of peace, but remember, your destiny requires you to use your Voice - why else would Akatosh have bestowed this power upon you?"

"I … will try," Judiiz said after a moment of reflection. Arngeir touched her shoulder and for the first time in a while, she found another's touch reassuring.

"That is commendable. But remember, the Dragon Blood is itself a gift of Akatosh. Do not try to deny that gift. If you remember to use your Voice in service to the purpose of Akatosh, you will remain true to the Way."

"Did it … come easy to other Dragonborn as well?" she asked walking alongside him.

"Hmm, do not let your easy mastery of the Voice tempt you into the arrogance of power that has been the downfall of many Dragonborn before you," Arngeir admonished gently. "Dragons though, and of course Dragonborn, have the inborn ability to learn and project their Voice. What you have already learned today took even the most gifted of us years to achieve. But beware that your skill does not outstrip your wisdom."

"_Geh_, Master," she replied and her hand flew up to cover her mouth in surprise. Arngeir chuckled softly.

"Yes? Good. Then you will be ready for whatever lies ahead. And do not be alarmed by your lapses into the Dragontongue. This is also natural and inborn. If we accept one gift, how can we deny the other?" The great doors of High Hrothgar closed behind them, snow swirling once again and covering the passage of a legend about to commence.


	5. Chapter 5

Master Arngeir bade Judiiz farewell and she found her way down the steps to the brightly lit foyer by herself. The heat from the burning braziers was welcome after the snow-laden wind off the mountain outside and she looked about for Rasha. A punch suddenly landed on her shoulder and she swung around. Did all Khajiit move so quietly?

"Ow! What was that for?"

Rasha stood next to her, hands on her hips sternly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she uttered, punctuating each word with another punch.

Judiiz tried to fend her off. "Stop that!"

Rasha pulled up close to her. "You could have killed me! Shouting at me like that in Whiterun … you could have told me you're the Dragonborn, you know!"

"I didn't know … anything then!" Judiiz tried to defend herself. "I only remembered fighting when we were … well, fighting! I'm sorry …"

Rasha shook her head and lifted her hands in conciliation. "Okay, okay. Nobody got hurt. Maybe I could teach you … Ooh, shiny …!" Rasha's eyes unexpectedly strayed to an ornately decorated goblet and matching plate, displayed on a stone mantel. She started ambling towards it in a stupor.

Judiiz grabbed her around the waist and tried to restrain her. "No! You can't take anything from here! We need to go!" Rasha struggled feebly but stiffened when Master Borri entered from a side passage, watching them impassively.

"Oh… umm, hi!" Rasha stuttered. "We were just …"

"Leaving!" Judiiz finished for her, embarrassment colouring her cheeks. She was still gripping Rasha tightly and they crab-walked awkwardly towards the exit.

"Yes, leaving!" Rasha agreed passionately, a big fake smile turning her whiskers up. "Wait, where are we going?" she mouthed sideways. Judiiz growled her frustration and pushed her outside into the frigid air. The door slammed with a dull metallic thud and from the side passage, Master Borri breathed a long-suffering sigh. He was startled when the door creaked open once more admitting Rasha's head, her goofy smile still in place.

"Bye!" she peeped before she got pulled outside again, the door slamming shut after her. Master Borri watched the door a few moments, fully expecting another intrusion, before he rolled his eyes and settled down in front of a stone carving to meditate. His shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes when the door creaked open again. He heard the clatter of knives and forks deposited on the stone seats at the entrance. The door quietly closed behind whoever had returned the stolen items and he opened and raised pleading eyes at the carving on the wall. For the love of…!

"Breath … and focus," Master Arngeir reminded him delicately from the shadows of the adjoining sleeping quarters, dry amusement in his voice.

* * *

It was mid-morn on Fredas the 21st of Last Seed, four days since the dragon attack at Helgen, when Judiiz and Rasha entered the gates of Whiterun. Judiiz had been marginally more talkative during their journey back after giving her a tongue-lashing for stealing from the Greybeards and Rasha had been pleased at the progress her friend was making. Judiiz was looking forward to washing up and resting for the rest of the day before heading to Ustengrav, but that was not yet to be, it seemed. They were accosted barely five paces into the city.

"You there," a female voice shouted, dripping insolence. Judiiz looked up and saw two people approaching, dressed identical in earthy belted leathers armoured at the right shoulder, scaled gloves and armoured boots. They were masked and armed.

"You're the one they call Dragonborn?" the woman asked impatiently. Judiiz and Rasha looked at each other in surprise before Judiiz answered, "Yes, I am Dragonborn."

"Your lies fall on deaf ears, deceiver!" the masked woman sneered. "The true Dragonborn comes! You are but his shadow! When Lord Miraak appears, all shall bear witness!" She reached purposefully towards her sword, her companion doing likewise. Judiiz heard the gate guards behind her unsheathing their weapons and Rasha crouched lower, ready to pounce. "None shall stand to oppose him!" the woman declared and walked casually towards them, obviously not expecting any resistance. She stopped though when she noticed Judiiz more closely. The ice-blue of her gaze radiated sudden uncontrolled fury. Inside her, her soul roared a deafening challenge.

"_Wuld_!" she snarled and sped forward in a blink. Her challenger suddenly sprawled at her feet, her throat caved in from an outstretched elbow. In another blink an arrow was in her hand and she speared it through the jugular of the second attacker. He slowly sunk down, gurgling obscenely.

"Shor's bones …," the gate guard muttered. It had all happened so quickly that he'd barely started forward to assist. Rasha still had her mouth open to shout her own challenge and her jaw shut audibly.

"Judiiz?" she asked tentatively. Judiiz turned slowly, the livid blaze behind her eyes still evident.

"_Zu'u los nunon gein_," {I am the only one.} she stated menacingly, her speech oddly two-tonal as if a lower pitched voice thrummed behind hers. She gradually regained her composure and stood back almost self-consciously when Rasha approached her.

"Are you hurt? That happened so fast!" Rasha babbled worriedly, checking her over.

"_Nid_." Judiiz muttered, then cleared her throat. "No ... I'm fine," she managed before she started to shake. Rasha hesitated briefly before putting an arm around her shoulders protectively. She turned to the guard and gestured at the two corpses.

"We will report the attack to the Jarl. Will you…" The guard nodded his understanding, patted the attackers down and called them back from turning away.

"Dragonborn, there is a note here. It might explain why they just drew swords on you," he supplied and handed a neatly folded piece of browned paper over to Rasha. The Khajiit nodded her thanks and continued leading Judiiz away to the Jarl's hold.

* * *

"No provocation? And right here in my city?" Balgruuf snarled indignantly. He refilled Judiiz' cup with a bit more mead and she sipped gratefully. She still hadn't let go of his hand; she'd rushed to him as soon as she'd seen him. He'd seemed a bit taken aback at first, but his concern had won out when he'd noticed her distress. They were now seated in the main hall at one of the long tables and Rasha had just finished recounting what had happened.

"And did the note explain anything?" Balgruuf demanded, not unkindly. Rasha fished it out of a pocket; in their haste to get to the hold, they had not read it yet. She cleared her throat.

"Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the false Dragonborn known as Judiiz before she reaches Solstheim."

"Void take them, they even know you by name," Balgruuf growled, shaking his head. "Anything else?"

"Just that they should return with word of their success, and that "Miraak shall be most pleased", my Jarl. I guess that last bit won't be happening now…" Rasha finished and folded the note away.

"Have any of you heard of this Miraak before?" Balgruuf asked them. Both shook their heads and the Jarl sighed. "I'm just glad none were injured. How did your time with the Greybeards go?" he changed the subject, looking expectantly at Judiiz. She appeared calmer now, almost at ease back in his hold. _She looks … better._

"Good. I am Dragonborn! Don't know why …," she tried to explain.

"What my socially awkward friend here tried to say, my Jarl, is that they were initially distrustful but once she nearly Shouted their smallclothes off, they welcomed her and started teaching her. They also don't know yet why there is a Dragonborn at this time, but they're sure that it has something to do with the appearance of the dragons," Rasha clarified in a rush and fell quiet as if she'd said something wrong.

"Yes!" Judiiz confirmed, smiling at her. Balgruuf raised his eyebrows but mirth sparkled in his eyes.

"All right then … Have lunch with me before you rush off again," he asked. "I would like to hear more. What are your plans next, by the way? Besides finding out more about this impertinent attack on you, of course?"

"Ustengrav," Judiiz stated as if it was obvious and with Rasha's help they explained the next stage in Judiiz' training. Lunch was served shortly afterwards and it turned out to be one of the rare times when other duties did not demand the Jarl's immediate attention. He listened to them with interest and it was almost two hours later when they left his hall.

"You like him," Rasha stated as they walked through the still busy market. Judiiz smiled sadly.

"He is … safe … _Bormah_," she replied quietly.

"A father figure?" Rasha sought confirmation. Judiiz thought about it for a moment and nodded. Although, how was he going to take that? He was the Jarl of Whiterun after all and he had his own children. Maybe it was slightly naïve to think that he would care for her in such a way. After all, she's only known him for a few days, why would he? She couldn't deny what she felt, though. She suddenly remembered something Rasha had mentioned.

"At High Hrothgar, you said maybe you could teach me …?"

Her friend's furry eyebrows drew together a moment before she brightened. "Oh yes! I just thought, seeing as the Greybeards are teaching you, there might be some things I could teach you as well."

"Hopefully it doesn't involve stealing things," Judiiz muttered under her breath.

"Hey! I heard that! No, actually, I could teach you the meditation techniques the Rimmen taught me. It may just help you to deal with everything and … other things." Judiiz' features went slack and Rasha decided not to say anymore. She'd let her friend decide for herself. They walked in silence through the bustling marketplace to Breezehome. Lydia was very happy to see them and the house showed marked improvement from when they'd left. It was still sparse, but clean and an additional bed had been made in the small downstairs room adjoining the stairs. After promising to tell Lydia all about their journey, they washed up and their planned quiet afternoon was not interrupted any further.

* * *

Judiiz and Rasha departed early the next morning despite the housecarl's insistence to accompany them. She'd only agreed to stay after Judiiz had handed her a heavy coin purse; their loot from their short travels so far had amounted to quite a small fortune. Lydia was to purchase more provisions and outfit the house better but she'd made them promise to take her on their next journey. They turned west towards the Western Watchtower, then north as soon as they spotted the old Fort Greymoor in the distance. Judiiz was utterly captivated when they spotted mammoth and their giant herder in Bleakwind Basin. They stayed for a while, lying hidden in waist high grasses before reluctantly continuing as far as Hamvir's Rest, on the border between Whiterun Hold and Hjalmarch. From there they turned east and found a corridor between the mountains further north not shown on their map. The view ahead differed dramatically from what lay behind them. Gone were the diversely coloured grasslands dotted by tundra cotton and the occasional lavender bush they were used to. Bleak rock outcroppings and crags had taken its place, wind whispering, forlorn and cold. Colossal twin stone arches with central support columns towered ahead of them, a half-buried cobble walkway snaking through underneath. According to a minute inscription on their map, they'd reached Labyrinthian.

"Frost trolls … I can't stand trolls," Rasha muttered in disgust after they'd dispatched their second one. Labyrinthian consisted of numerous crumbling stairways leading to weathered platforms, ruined sculptures and, well, more ruins. They noticed a ridged mound roughly in the centre of the complex and after carefully scouting ahead, they found a cleverly concealed entrance leading inside.

"This looks odd … almost out of place," Rasha whispered when they entered a circular interior chamber. It was dominated on the far wall by something akin to a word wall, but smaller. A time-worn dragon's head was sculpted in the middle with crumbling busts of hooded figures on either side. A ragged and faded blue tapestry hung limply behind it. It exuded a feeling of long abandonment. So did the brittle skeleton lounging against the wall. Rasha picked up a yellowed, barely legible note between its legs, alongside a wooden mask. The mask glowed faintly orange around the edges and it thrummed softly with unfamiliar power.

"Anything?" Judiiz queried her friend softly, picking up the mask and studying it carefully. Rasha's eyes scanned the note quickly.

"Hmm, something about some Breton who hired bodyguards for an expedition? The Breton found the mask, put it on and … Judiiz, wait!" she cried, a moment too late. Judiiz held the mask in front of her face, brought it closer and then simply … vanished!

Judiiz blinked, disoriented. She was still in the same interior chamber but it was … different. Not ancient. Two braziers flickered brightly, there was no dust and broken rock around her, the word wall and its busts were in pristine condition and the tapestry behind it was a vibrant blue, looking well taken care of. She whipped the mask off startling Rasha, who jumped about waist high.

"Don't do that!" Rasha admonished fervently. "Don't just put the mask on, or flip the lever, or step on the pressure plate! Shit usually happens!"

"Sorry," Judiiz muttered sheepishly.

Rasha breathed deeply a few times, settling her ragged nerves. "You're back at least. Where did you go?"

"Same place, just … newer!" Judiiz replied with excitement. She promptly put the mask back on and disappeared again.

"And … I'm speaking to myself again!" Rasha told the empty chamber. In a seemingly different era, Judiiz excitedly took stock of everything around her. The four grated air holes above showed the sun straight overhead. She tried the heavy door on the chamber but it wouldn't budge. The two iron-bound chests in the room were depressingly empty. She approached the smaller word wall and somehow she instinctively knew the names to the busts; from the left were Volsung, Vokun, Otar and Morokei, then to the right of the dragon's head were Rahgot, Nahkriin, Hevnoraak and Krosis. Dragon Priests! There had to be masks for them, they always wore masks. _How did she know this?_ She removed the wooden mask and Rasha spun on her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Stay right there. Right there! Don't put it on again, don't vanish somewhere …"

"Okay," Judiiz agreed, smiling innocently.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Rasha muttered, stabbing Judiiz repeatedly with a stiff finger before taking the mask from her and stashing it in her pack. "So, what happened?" Rasha asked, still not quite trusting her not to disappear at any moment. Judiiz explained to her as they made their way cautiously outside again. They snuck stealthily past a last frost troll to the right of the great arched exit. It was eerily decorated with hanging iron cages, some still containing weather-beaten bits of bone and ragged cloth. They crept soundlessly down shattered stairways to the frozen forest floor below. Morthal saw them just before nightfall.

* * *

Lit torches waved around in the dusk light, flinging dancing shadows against walls and upturned faces.

"What's the Jarl going to do about it?" an angry voice demanded.

"How are we supposed to be safe in our own homes?" a second voice joined in. A small unruly crowd was gathered at the foot of the steps to Highmoon Hall, the Jarl of Morthal's hold, and a lone figure seemed to be refusing them entrance. He waved his hands pleadingly.

"Please, enough already! I have told Idgrod of your concerns," he tried to reassure the townsfolk around him. "She'll look after you all. Please, go about your business." Without another word he turned and entered the door behind him.

"We have no need for wizards in our midst! Morthal has enough problems as it is!" a voice shouted after him but he ignored it and shut the door.

"Agh, it's no use," one man told another next to him. "Let's get back to it then." They all turned to leave and Rasha stopped the last speaker.

"Good evening, friend. I am Rasha and this is my friend Judiiz," she introduced them. The man looked determined to ignore them and leave, but he turned reluctantly to them in the end.

"Name's Jorgen," he replied gruffly.

"What's going on? You people seem upset about something," Rasha probed carefully. Jorgen threw his hands up, almost in despair.

"The world's going mad, and our Jarl does what? She hides inside with her visions! We need a leader, not some mystic!" he answered and spat to the side. Judiiz stepped closer to him.

"What isn't the Jarl dealing with?"

"I trust you saw the house that burned down?" Jorgen asked. Judiiz shook her head. "Peculiar bit of business that was," he informed them in a lowered voice, "and that's on top of noises from the marsh at night. Tales of monsters, now this wizard in our midst." He raised his voice again, frustration evident. "What's a man to do if he can't look to his Jarl for help?" He spun and stalked off into the night muttering to himself. Judiiz and Rasha looked at each other and shrugged. There was nothing to be done at this hour.

They asked a guard for directions and he pointed them further down the road to the Moorside Inn. As with most other buildings in Morthal, it was built partly over pools of standing or half-frozen water and was connected to other buildings by aging timber walkways. The inn had cheerily lit windows to its double volume, casting warm light on the thatch around it. They trudged wearily up the stairs and entered. They were greeted by the innkeeper Jonna, who was all too happy to have customers. It was hard to refuse her exuberance when she served them bowls of beef stew and that morning's bread, heated in front of the hearth.

"Is there a story behind that burnt down house?" Rasha asked her after she'd come around checking at their table for about the seventh time.

"Oh, Hroggar's house?" she brightened, glad to have some conversation. She plopped down in an empty chair. "It burned down not too long ago," she informed them. She lowered her voice a bit. "It's a real pity about his wife and kid. The screams woke half the town! Most folks won't go near it now for fear it's cursed," she concluded and shivered. Judiiz broke another piece of bread from her loaf and dunked it into the rich gravy in her bowl.

"How did the fire start?" she inquired, taking an enthusiastic bite.

"Hroggar claims it was a hearth fire," Jonna stated, warming to the subject. She held her hand to the side of her mouth as if imparting some great secret. "Some folks say Hroggar started it himself …"

Rasha choked and cleared her throat. "With his own wife and child inside?"

"That's what they say!" Jonna shrugged. "See, he's living with Alva now. That started the day after the fire." She shook her head in disapproval. "It ain't right moving in with a new love the day after your kid dies like that!"

"And of course they can't prove he murdered them," Rasha pointed out. Jonna nodded.

"Aye. The Jarl would sure like to know if he did, though." She leaned over and winked, "Might even pay to find out!" She excused herself and the inn fell silent again.

"And more gold is always good!" Rasha remarked brightly, Judiiz nodding her agreement. They would definitely pay the Jarl a visit in the morning. Right now though, there was only one priority. After finishing their meal, they rented a room and literally collapsed down next to each other on the straw-covered double bed, too tired to wash up or undress.


	6. Chapter 6

Judiiz woke to a gentle rumbling beside her. Rasha was curled up on her side facing her, still fast asleep and Judiiz lay watching her with growing amusement for a while. Her whiskers twitched every now and then, she was mumbling unintelligible words that started to sound more and more like "rabbit" and then her limbs started moving as if running on all fours. And was she purring earlier? Judiiz unsuccessfully tried to stifle her giggles and Rasha's movements stilled, one amber eye cracking open.

"Was I running again?" she mumbled, her cheek scrunched up against the goose down pillow. Judiiz shook her head, trying very hard to look convincing. Rasha sighed. "I was running again …" She yawned cavernously and bumped Judiiz' shoulder accusingly. "You're a terrible liar!" She stopped when her stomach growled ominously. They both looked at each other with big eyes and snorted with laughter.

"Alright, alright! My own body is betraying me now," she lamented and swung her feet off the bed. They freshened up at a bowl of water on a dresser in the opposite corner of the room and sauntered through to the dining area for something to break their fast. It was just after eight in the morning when they were granted entrance to Highmoon Hall to see the Jarl.

* * *

Idgrod Ravencrone looked older than her years, lines of worry around her eyes and her once lustrous ebony hair streaked with silver. Her bodyguard, a sturdy Nord in weather-beaten leathers and furs hovered around her possessively. Her steward, Aslfir, was a young man by comparison, mahogany hair braided back and reaching his collar. He was the one who'd tried to placate the townsfolk the previous night, they noticed. He seemed friendly enough, bemoaning the unrest, the growing rebellion against the Empire and Hroggar's tragedy before introducing them to the Jarl.

"All this talk of rebellion and strife!" Idgrod started, eyeing her steward. "Too many are focused on what might be instead of what _is_." She sighed as if she carried a world of burdens. "It tires me to talk about it."

Rasha cleared her throat. "We heard that you might want someone to look into that house fire, Jarl."

"Hroggar's house fire?" Idgrod asked, her brow furrowing. "Yes, he lost his wife and daughter in the blaze. My people believe it to be cursed now. Who am I to gainsay them?" she shrugged.

"Err, what does Hroggar say happened?"Judiiz added. The Jarl shrugged again.

"Hroggar blames his wife for spilling bear fat in the fire. Many think he set the fire himself."

Judiiz appeared shocked. "Why would he do that to his own family?"

"Lust can make a man do the unthinkable," Idgrod stated. Her eyes narrowed when Judiiz paled and dropped her gaze. "You know what I speak of," she murmured, her words meant for Judiiz' ears only and her assumption confirmed when the girl in front of her took an instinctive half-step backwards. Rasha looked sharply at her friend. _Is that the burden she carries? Sweet Divines, no!_

"The ashes were still warm when he pledged himself to Alva," Idgrod continued explaining, sparing Judiiz further discomfort.

Rasha looked incredulous. "He has not been arrested yet?"

"On rumour and gossip?" the Jarl snorted. "No! But you two strangers might find the truth for us," she suggested shrewdly. "Sift through the ashes that others are too fearful to touch. See what they tell you. Should you prove him guilty or innocent, I will reward you." Judiiz and Rasha nodded and as they turned to leave, Idgrod mumbled, "Hroggar's fate is in your hands."

"Huh, no pressure, eh?" Rasha whispered sideways at Judiiz when they opened the door to exit the hold.

* * *

They took the road down to the inn again and turned left, the remains of Hroggar's house a blackened sore at the end of the walkway. The stumps of some supporting members still stuck out from the ash and the floor was more or less stable, but there wasn't much else left besides the soot-stained stone hearth. They poked around for a bit, not really finding anything that would prove anyone guilty or innocent and were about to leave when Rasha stiffened suddenly. Her tail went rigid and fluffy and her ears pulled flat.

"What is it?" Judiiz hissed, alarmed. She started when the glowing apparition of a ten or eleven year old girl coalesced next to her. Rasha reached for her daggers but stopped short of drawing them.

"Who's there?" the ghost asked, sounding frightened. "Is that you, father?"

"Who are you?" Judiiz asked, trying to hide her anxiety. Ghosts always set her teeth on edge.

"Helgi," the girl answered, then shied back a little. "My father says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. Are you a stranger?" Judiiz felt her misgivings replaced by pity for this poor lost soul.

"No, I'm a friend," she tried to reassure the girl softly. "Do you know what happened to your house?"

The girl stiffened in alarm. "The smoke woke me up. I was hot and I was scared, so I hid," the words tumbled out. "Then it got cold and dark. I'm not scared anymore, but I'm lonely. Will you play with me?" she asked pleadingly.

Judiiz swallowed hard and answered softly, "If I do, will you tell me who set the fire?"

The girl frowned for a moment, then she brightened. "Okay! Let's play hide and seek. You find me, and I'll tell you. We have to wait for night-time though. The other one is playing too, and he can't come out until then."

"The other one?" Judiiz hastened as the girl's form started diminishing. "What do you mean?"

Helgi looked over her shoulder and her eyes were saucers. "I can't tell you! He might hear me. He's so close!" She hugged her arms to her chest. "If you can find me first, I can tell you!" She faded away promptly and the two friends looked at each other.

"Sorry Judiiz," Rasha murmured, suppressing a shiver. "Ghosts just … creep me out!" Judiiz shook her head and smiled, indicating that she understood. Through the trees at the back of the house, she noticed what looked like burial mounds and started off in that direction with Rasha following sheepishly.

"Now, how are we supposed to find a dead girl hiding from us?" she pointed out. They arrived to an opened grave with a small coffin, probably a child's, sitting askew as if half dragged out and left.

"Ah," Rasha nodded, "This must be hers!" She noticed Judiiz looking at the sun, trying to gauge the time. "She said night-time, right?" Rasha confirmed, to which Judiiz nodded. "Looks like there's still time to fetch this horn of yours and be back in time to play with your ghost." Judiiz lifted an eyebrow but nodded her agreement. She was just worried about who this "other one" might be that Helgi spoke of with such obvious fear.

* * *

The way to Ustengrav was not so much followed by road as it was just slogging through swamps, biting insects, exploding fungal pods and ambushing mudcrabs. At Ustengrav, they found a woman dressed in necromancer robes, and what were probably her two thralls. They must have been killed by the ever-hungry swamp fauna. Once inside, they surprised two black-clad figures with presumably their thralls ambling aimlessly around them. Judiiz stealthily dispatched them with arrows from the shadows and the thralls crumpled into ash. A side-passage led them down a staircase, another long-eared figure crumpled in a bloody heap. The sounds of clashing swords and shouts reached them around the next bend. Rasha scouted ahead silently and snuck back quickly.

"Draugr and necromancers. Wait until the fighting stops, then we take whoever is left," she whispered next to Judiiz' ear. Moments later it went quiet. Judiiz set an arrow to her bow and drew it, peeked around the corner and let it fly. A draugr went down, sword clanging on the stone floor. Rasha leapt past her and swiped at the next one. Its head skewed with a crack of dry bone. As it toppled, a third draugr stepped from a side passage, sword swinging already. Judiiz' arrow went through its ribcage but merely staggered it. It was enough time though for Rasha to sidestep, leap onto its shoulders and tumble over it, leaving it without its head. Judiiz sighed her relief and Rasha nodded her thanks. They reached a wooden door and surprisingly, it was unlocked.

"Ooh, gold!" Rasha whispered gleefully, picking up a coin pouch in front of the door and pocketing the contents before following her friend further into the depths.

Another lone draugr nearly ambushed them around the next corner. Judiiz' arrow went wide but Rasha was already rushing past her. Her booted feet hit the draugr square in the chest and it tumbled soundlessly into the dark below. The area below them was huge with an air hole in the centre, allowing natural light through, sparkling with misty raindrops.

"Ugh, rain," Judiiz muttered. Nothing like walking back through stinking swamps in a downpour.

"Lovely…" Rasha agreed, then held up her hand to stop Judiiz from going further. She peered closely at the ground, then lit a small ball of magical candlelight in her palm to see better.

"More lovely. Pressure plates," she declared. Judiiz followed carefully as Rasha skirted the traps. They dispatched three more draugr as they emerged from their sarcophagi in the next chamber and followed a small passage to where the path opened into the main open area again. A dry rustle and tell-tale scrape of bone disturbed the quiet. Rasha's tail suddenly puffed up again in alarm. She peered down into the gloom and turned back to Judiiz.

"Skelly's," she whispered and Judiiz frowned, then brightened. _Oh right, skeletons!_ Well-placed arrows extinguished the unearthly glow in the skeletons' eye sockets and for good measure, Judiiz took aim and shot at a last skeleton lounging suspiciously on a throne against the far wall. Her suspicion was confirmed when it jumped up reflexively and crumpled.

"Sneaky!" Rasha commented softly. Judiiz felt it then; an inexplicable pull into the depths and barely audible chanting over the sound of the nearby waterfall. She cocked her head sideways to hear more clearly.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered urgently. Rasha's ears pivoted back and forth, then she shrugged. Judiiz started following a narrow pathway down over the rushing water and the chanting got slightly louder. "Down here!" she beckoned and Rasha followed her, puzzled. At the bottom, in front of a curving word wall, was a rippling pool and the area had the feel of serenity and undisturbed beauty. Judiiz had seen the glowing word on the wall though and she saw tendrils of power reaching out to her, calling her. The word was swimming in front of her and she knelt down, all else forgotten. It seemed to leap out at her, filling her mind. Ahh, _Feim!_

"What is it? One of those words you told me about?" Rasha asked, approaching behind her. Judiiz nodded.

"Fade … " she confirmed. Rasha looked at the wall perplexed.

"I don't see anything. It just looks like old scratches on an old wall," she offered. _Yes, scratches_, Judiiz thought. _Written language from the only quills dragonkind possessed, their claws …_ She pushed herself up. She understood the word, but it had no real meaning at present. Best to move on. They retraced their steps up the path, over a curving bridge and arrived at three stones set in the middle of the floor. They had swirls on them and a rearing dragon carved into their centre of each. Rasha approached them, saw an iron gate on the other side and went over to try it. It wouldn't budge. Behind it were a series of three more gates, all apparently set firmly in place. The last gate suddenly creaked all the way upwards. Judiiz stood by the first stone and it was glowing deep crimson.

"Try the next one!" Rasha encouraged her. Judiiz walked forward, the next stone lit up and the next gate lifted, only for the first one to drop firmly back in place. She tried running past them on her way to the gate, but she was too slow. Her face lit up suddenly. She motioned for Rasha to stand aside. She took a deep breath and focused inwards.

_"Wuld!"_

In a blink, she sped through the open gates and this time they stayed open after her passage.

"Huh. All right then!" Rasha commented wryly and followed Judiiz who'd suddenly stopped short. Rasha followed her gaze and noticed that the floor was just about covered in pressure plates. They managed to inch along the walls avoiding the traps, but had to scamper around between gouts of flame from the traps when frostbite spiders decided it was an opportune time to attack. After dealing with the spiders they found a wooden door almost hidden behind thick webs. The last gate opened on a large chamber, deep water on either side of a walkway down the middle. As they started down the steps, a deep rumbling commenced and encrusted stone figures rose from the water, an honour guard to their arrival. Rasha strode through indifferently and bowed mockingly to each statue saying, "Thank you. No, thank you! Oh, and thank you too!" as she passed by each one. Judiiz just shook her head. She noticed a dais with some form of altar or sarcophagus on it, with faded dragon language inscriptions on the side. Finally! The Horn!

* * *

"What?" Judiiz said disbelievingly. Rasha handed her the note they'd found where the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller supposedly had rested. Her eyes scanned the writing, anger growing.

"Dragonborn,  
I need to speak to you. Urgently.  
Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I'll meet you.  
A friend."

Judiiz crumpled the note, threw it away from her in disgust and sat down heavily on the steps of the dais.

"_Pah daar strah fah NID_!" {All this way for nothing.} she thundered and the chamber echoed her frustration back at her, fine sand and dust sifting down from the high ceiling. Rasha's eyes were troubled for a moment; she's only known Judiiz a short while, but she's noticed that her friend was finding it harder to control her anger. They'd have to start on those meditation lessons soon.

"Yeah, some friend," she sighed. "Come, there's nothing else for it. It must be almost dark outside. We have a date with a ghost and then we can get out of this stupid swamp." She offered her hand and after a moment, Judiiz took it and she pulled her to her feet. As if in consolation, they found a sizable amount of gold and other items in a small antechamber before winding their way back out of Ustengrav. The journey back turned out to be more unpleasant than they thought and as if in spite, the drenching rain only stopped as they crested the last muddy hill into Morthal.

* * *

"What about this Hroggar?" Rasha asked. "We haven't heard his opinion in all of this," she pointed out, bent over and trying to rid her boots of mud. They questioned a guard and were directed through murky puddles to the wood mill on the other side of town. They found a Nord in his late thirties splitting logs at a chopping block.

"Hroggar?" Rasha called out to him. He stopped chopping, turned around and stared blankly at them. Something felt … off about him.

"Err… we saw Helgi's ghost at the burnt down house," Rasha offered. Nothing registered on his face.

"Really? How nice …," Hroggar answered in a monotone and Judiiz stepped forward, furious.

"Don't you care? That's your daughter!"

"I have Alva to take care of now," he mumbled absently. Before Rasha could intervene, Judiiz slapped him hard, leaving an angry imprint of her hand on his cheek. He merely shrugged, turned around and continued his chore. Rasha pulled Judiiz away.

"Something's not right," she noted beyond his hearing range. "Leave him, he is not himself. Let's go find the girl." Judiiz nodded and tried to curb her outrage at Hroggar. Dark settled around them when they reached the burial ground, the coffin still in its previous position. Judiiz reached to touch it when an unearthly screech erupted from nearby bushes. A shadowy figure collided with her and bowled her to the ground. A woman, dressed in stylised armour, rolled with her and tried to pin her arms. Judiiz didn't have time to focus a Shout. She caught a brief glimpse of bloodshot eyes, contorted features and … fangs! She tried in vain to free her arms, but the woman was incredibly strong. One of her hands scrabbled for Judiiz' throat and she desperately tried to fend it off but it still managed to clamp down and squeeze her air off. Judiiz heard blood rushing in her ears and she started seeing dancing lights. She bucked desperately under her attacker when the corners of her vision started darkening.

Where was Rasha?


	7. Chapter 7

The relentless pressure on her throat lifted suddenly and the vampire woman slumped sideways. Judiiz lay gasping for a moment, her vision slowly clearing. Rasha was wiping her claws disgustedly on the woman's tunic before she knelt down and checked her friend over carefully. Not quite satisfied, she helped her to stand on unsteady legs.

"Are you injured? Did she bite you?" Rasha asked urgently, eyeing her intently.

"No. Why would she …," Judiiz rasped between big intakes of breath.

"Vampire," Rasha muttered and rolled the woman over with her boot. A portion of the back of her skull was gone, deep furrows clearly caused by Rasha's lethal claws. The woman's mouth hung open in a silent scream and Judiiz noted her elongated canines. A vampire! She'd never come across one before, never had to deal with one. If Rasha hadn't been there, once again…

"Thank you," she whispered. Rasha smiled gently and nodded. Her smile froze suddenly and her tail went thick and woolly again. Helgi's ghost materialised next to her coffin.

"Damn it!" Rasha exclaimed, gripping her chest where her heart would be. "I wish they wouldn't just … pop out like that!"

"You found me!" Helgi exclaimed with joy, oblivious to Rasha's distress. She noticed the fallen vampire though and pointed at her. "Laelette was trying to find me, but I'm glad you found me first."

"Laelette?" Judiiz asked and indicated the vampire. Helgi nodded.

"Yes. Laelette kissed me on the neck and I got so cold that the fire didn't burn. She thought she could keep me forever, but I'm all burned up. I'm tired," she stated sadly. "I think I'm going to sleep for a while now." Before Judiiz or Rasha could intervene, she faded. Rasha turned to her friend, but then her eyes shifted past her and she hastily pushed her behind her. A figure was approaching, a torch in his hand. The figure stopped and knelt down by the fallen vampire. He stiffened.

"No! Laelette … she's dead!" His head lowered in sorrow. "Ysmir's beard, she's a vampire!" Rasha and Judiiz approached him hesitantly.

"You … knew her?" Judiiz asked softly. He sobbed once and lifted his tear-streaked face up at them.

"I'm Thonnir. Laelette was my wife."

"We are so sorry," Rasha offered solemnly. "Do you … know anything about this? Can you tell us anything about your wife?"

"Laelette!" Thonnir croaked. "I thought she'd left to join the Stormcloaks!" He wiped angrily at his eyes. "Oh, my poor Laelette …"

"Did you notice anything strange before she left?"

"She … began to spend a lot of time with Alva. Yet, just a week before, she despised her!" His gaze went distant. "In fact, the night she disappeared, she was supposed to meet Alva. Alva told me later that she never showed up." His voice broke with emotion. "I never got to tell her … goodbye…"

"I think they may have met after all," Rasha observed. Thonnir's shoulders stopped shaking.

"You think Alva …? But that means …" His tear-reddened eyes widened incredulously. "Ye gods, you think Alva is a vampire?"

"It is a possibility we can't ignore," Judiiz stated, trying to sound reasonable. Thonnir shook his head vehemently.

"No! You're wrong! You must be wrong!" He got up from his kneeling position. "Laelette may have met her fate out in the marsh. I refuse to believe it!" He turned and stormed off, his torch fluttering in his hand.

"I don't understand this," Rasha muttered at Judiiz. "First Hroggar, his wife and Alva, now Thonnir, Laelette and Alva …"

"Alva's house," Judiiz interrupted her pointedly.

"Let's go," Rasha agreed and they sauntered back to the village.

* * *

A guard gave them directions and Rasha had to pick the front door lock while Judiiz kept watch. They entered the house and shut the door behind them. It was quiet as a crypt. They looked around discreetly but found nothing of interest and descended the stairs into the cellar. Judiiz readied her bow and nodded to Rasha. The Khajiit opened the door and crouched down. The small cellar was deserted except for an open coffin in the centre. Rasha cast a small candlelight and it hovered just ahead of her, enough light for her to notice the corner of a journal discreetly tucked into the linens lining the coffin. She picked it up and paged through it in haste, understanding slowly dawning in her eyes.

"Ahh, I think this is what we're looking for," she whispered. Judiiz looked at her questioningly. "Alva was bored with her life, it seems," she clarified, voice low. "It looks like she met this … Movarth, while picking nightflowers. He turned her into a vampire. She seduced Hroggar to watch over her coffin. She then turned Laelette and spread the rumour that she'd gone to join the war." She turned another page and scanned it. "Alva was to seduce all the guardsmen," she noted with distaste, "make them her slaves, then Movarth and his coven could take the town as their cattle. She told Laelette to burn Hroggar's family. Laelette tried to turn Helgi, probably to try and save her, failed, then started going crazy. Looks like Thonnir had nothing to do with the whole thing."

"Evidence," Judiiz whispered back. Rasha nodded, tucked the journal into her pack and lead the way out. She locked the door again and they made it to the inn without being noticed by guards. The Jarl had probably retired already, so there was nothing else but to wait for the next morning.

* * *

"Is Hroggar innocent or not?" the Jarl demanded without preamble. Judiiz and Rasha had been ushered in the moment the doors to the hold had opened. Servants were hustling about, dusting furniture and stoking the firepit. Rasha fished around in her pack.

"We have Alva's journal," she declared and handed it to the impatient Jarl. Idgrod skimmed through it and grimaced.

"So it's true? The traitorous bitch!" she raved. The two friends' eyebrows rose in surprise but they kept silent. "Morthal owes you a debt. Here. You were promised a reward for solving the crime." Gorm, the Jarl's bodyguard, handed a heavy coin pouch over to Rasha and she passed it on to Judiiz. "I need one more favour from you though," Idgrod sighed. "Morthal is still in danger. The journal mentions Movarth, the master vampire I thought destroyed a century ago. He needs to die."

"Alone?" Judiiz blurted, indicating herself and her friend. The Jarl rolled her eyes.

"Of course not, girl! I'll gather together some able-bodied warriors to help take Movarth's lair. They will be waiting outside for you to lead them in an hour," she directed the last at Gorm meaningfully. He nodded in understanding and signalled a nearby guard who departed the hall in haste, Judiiz and Rasha short on his heels.

A small handful of townsfolk stood waiting for them later as promised. Judiiz felt her heat rise – were most Jarls this callous with the lives of their people? Why not send trained and armoured guardsmen? She noticed Thonnir among the nervous group and approached him.

"You know why we're here?" she asked.

"I want vengeance for my wife!" he hissed and gripped his sword awkwardly.

"Have you faced vampires before?"

"I don't care!" he bellowed. "We're marching on Movarth's lair whether you come with us or not!" He turned and promptly trotted off, the rest of the small group following him. Rasha shook her head.

"This is going to turn into a massacre," she muttered darkly. They took off after them.

* * *

The entrance to Movarth's lair looked like a typical mine with two extinguished torches on either side of the wood-braced opening. Judiiz and Rasha had managed to prevent the scared townspeople from just charging in blindly.

"Why don't you go in first, then!" an orc whom they recognised as the bard from the inn ground out. Judiiz almost sighed in relief.

"Good idea. Hang back here. We will call if we need you." Thonnir stepped forward though and Judiiz put her hand up to stop him.

"Have you faced vampires before?" she asked him again. He hesitated and shook his head stonily.

"Let us scout ahead first. You are a brave man to offer your help, but we've done this before." Thonnir frowned, but lowered his sword.

"All right. I am no fighter," he agreed grudgingly. "We will wait here. Kill that monster for my wife!" Judiiz nodded and followed Rasha into the darkness of the mine.

"Done this before, eh?" she noted askance.

"Once. Yesterday," Rasha grinned nervously in return before dusk swallowed them.

The ground plunged away into a large hollowed out entrance chamber with timber stairs and walkways leading down. After dispatching the two frostbite spiders from higher ground they descended and found abandoned ore carts, picks and shovels at the bottom. A narrow side passage lead further and Judiiz sniped a man, probably a thrall, long before he was aware of them. When they reached him, the smell also reached them; rotting remains and the coppery hint of old blood. They stealthily crept further and observed a lone man shovelling dirt over fresh and old corpses in a large deep trench. He was merrily humming to himself and talking to his mute subjects as he strip-searched them of valuables before covering them in soil. Judiiz found her stomach turn. He fell as well, an arrow through his temple. They crept past carts of dripping remains, some just bloodied skeletons, to an opening on the far side and found the passage bending around a corner. Muted voices could be heard and they were thankful for the enveloping darkness. It was a dining hall of sorts and Judiiz swallowed convulsively. Alongside regular food, sides of beef, cooked and raw vegetables and bottles of mead and wine was darker fare. In some places the table dripped with spilt blood and human remains. There were four in the room. One, presumably Movarth, was seated at the head of the table. The others were talking idly, snapping titbits off the table. The smell was … fresher, not yet tainted by decay and Judiiz was momentarily overwhelmed by her soul roaring in outrage.

"_Daar los folaas_," {This is wrong.} she whispered with fury, her voice turning two-tonal.

_What kind of monsters treat mortals this way? Mortals are to be protected! _A rage lit behind her eyes and she felt a hand on her arm.

"Judiiz, don't," Rasha whispered urgently. Judiiz smiled serenely at her and for a moment, Rasha felt paralysed under the dragon's gaze. Judiiz had a mining pick in each hand; where had she found that in the dark?

"_Wuld_!" she bellowed. The first vampire, a woman, split apart in a wet splash. The second, a man, started readying a spell but a pick hooked into his torso and he flew over the laden table, food and crockery flung in all directions. He hit the wall with a sick crunch of bone and didn't get up. Rasha's eyes went wide in astonishment.

"Damn, girl," she muttered, amazed at Judiiz' frenzy. She rushed at the third vampire, another woman, who caught Judiiz with a spell this time. Red glowing particles were attempting to suck the very life from her. Judiiz shrugged it off with a grunt. She swung with a pick blindly and the woman jumped aside but Rasha's claws slammed into her shoulder, disrupting her spellcasting. Judiiz swung the other pick, snapping ribs and crushing the vampire's heart. Chairs shattered as she was brutally slammed into them. Judiiz spun on where Movarth was sitting but the seat was empty. Judiiz and Rasha stood panting for breath, looking around frantically. Dry laughter echoed through the suddenly quiet chamber.

"Well well well! Someone brave enough to come and seek us out." The voice was cultured but filled with hungry menace. Judiiz scanned the overhead timber walkways, trying to find the beast and one by one, the torches on the walls started hissing out.

"Did you really think you could just walk in here and catch Movarth Piquine that easily?" The last torch flickered out and a weight slammed her into a wall.

Rasha's eyes dilated and her night-vision cleared; Movarth had Judiiz up against a wall, her feet dangling and kicking uselessly. She leapt and scored a line of furrows down his back. He batted her aside with his free hand, laughing madly. She rolled and pounced on him again, digging her claws in this time. Movarth bellowed his rage and pain, dropped Judiiz and tore Rasha off him, flinging her onto the table. It cracked in the middle and she crashed down painfully. He grabbed her by her fur and tossed her into Judiiz. They sprawled, coughing and a tangle of limbs. He lifted his arms gloriously and laughed again.

"Pathetic! You are but cattle like the rest! I will have this muddy little town still!" He strode forward, only to be staggered backwards by Judiiz' Unrelenting Force. He shook his head to clear it and some surprise showed in his eyes above a toothy sneer.

"A bit better, but too late!" He dodged a vicious swipe by Rasha's claws, grabbed them both by their throats and strung them up against the wall. In desperation, Judiiz plunged her dagger into his shoulder but it only seemed to enrage the vampire more.

"Now you will both die!" he cried triumphantly and squeezed their throats harder. They both struggled and kicked at him, but he was inhumanly strong. Moments before both lost consciousness, movement flickered behind the vampire and he birthed a sword point from the top of his chest. He stiffened, dropped them both and clawed at the sword incredulously before toppling over. A torch sprung to life, illuminating Judiiz and Rasha gasping for breath on the filthy floor.

"Thonnir?" Judiiz rasped through her twice-bruised throat. The man standing over them started to shake uncontrollably.

"Ye gods! Was that … ye gods!" he muttered. He walked over and fumbled clumsily, but managed to light several other torches on the walls. Weak flickering light showed Rasha helping Judiiz to her feet before punching her on the shoulder.

"Oww!" Judiiz blurted in surprise.

"Stupid stupid stupid!" Rasha retorted, following each word with another punch. "You can't just rush into things like that! You're going to get yourself killed, sooner rather than later!"

Judiiz rubbed her bruised shoulder, wincing. "Why don't you try the other side for a change? Haven't you punched this side enough?"

"Not until you start listening! It's starting to become a habit now!"

"Sorry," Judiiz muttered sheepishly, before she went rigid, inhaling sharply.

"_Fus_!"

A ring of distorted air swept past Thonnir, swatting the pouncing Movarth aside and impaling him on the iron bracket of a torch. He screeched in fury before bursting into flames, consumed before their eyes. Thonnir's embedded sword clanged to the ground, blackened by burnt filth as Movarth's form turned to ash.

"Is he … gone now?" Thonnir's voice broke the stunned silence.

"I don't think he'll be coming back from that," Rasha confirmed, kneeling down and collecting a vial of the ashes. Alchemists usually paid a pretty price for such things.

"Was that all of them?" Thonnir asked. Judiiz shook her head tiredly.

"We haven't found Alva yet." They collected themselves and continued, Thonnir holding a torch up to light their path. A lone figure stood waiting for them in the next chamber, sleeping quarters from the looks of it. Logs crackled in a stone fireplace and bedrolls were laid out in front of it. Lines of assorted boots and shoes sat on racks, neatly arranged and cleaned.

"A vamp with a shoe fetish," Rasha snorted. "What next?"

"Alva!" Thonnir growled in recognition.

"Wait!" she implored them, hands held up defensively. "I have been misled! Movarth made me do it. Let me leave, please! You will never see me again!"

"So you can go and poison another village again with your lies and seduction? You know only one thing now; your thirst for blood!" Thonnir accused, waving his torch menacingly. She looked fearful for a few moments before her demeanor changed. She smiled seductively, fangs showing.

"Still hiding behind women, Thonnir? Do you know what Laelette and I were doing when I turned her?" Alva made an obscene licking gesture. "She said I was the best she'd ever had!"

Judiiz had had enough. "_Fus Ro_!"

Her Shout swept Alva off her feet, tumbling her headlong into the burning fireplace. She screeched in pain as her skin started peeling back and tried to claw her way through the red hot coals. Thonnir bellowed and flung his torch at her. It impaled her mouth and snapped her head back.

"Suck on that. It will be your last," he said with feeling and watched the fire lick into her hair. She burned for a few moments more, flared brightly and turned to ash. His shoulders slumped in relief. "It is over. Laelette, Helgi and her mother are avenged."

"And a man found his courage," Rasha added, impressed. Thonnir looked at them both and smiled sadly.

"Thank you for what you both have done here. If you ever have need of me on your travels, you have but to ask."

* * *

Helgi's ghost was waiting for them in front of the exit and after thanking them for setting her free, she faded away a last time. Thonnir parted company with them outside and they plodded back to town, supporting each other a bit.

"Damn it Judiiz, don't do that again," Rasha admonished.

"Thanks … for being there," Judiiz muttered, still abashed over her headlong rush at the vampires.

"Yeah, but what if I wasn't there? We were very lucky today," Rasha stated and her friend nodded. They reached the outskirts of the small town and Judiiz stopped suddenly mid-stride.

"Maybe we should check on Hroggar," she suggested.

"Yeah, he should at least be free of Alva's influence now." They turned and headed to his house. The sun was already casting long shadows and both of them could think of nothing more than a hot meal, hot bath and warm bed. Judiiz tried Hroggar's door. It was unlocked. She looked at Rasha.

"Do you think we should …" The door suddenly swung open. An enraged scream followed and before they could react, Hroggar barrelled into them. They all fell in a tangle on the timber walkway and Rasha yelped when metal flashed and her shoulder stung.

"You! You took her from me!" Hroggar screamed, punching wildly and stabbing down again. Judiiz came to her senses from the fall and kicked out, her boot hitting him in the head. He tumbled away but shouted incoherently and launched himself at Rasha again. He landed heavily on her, grunted and slowly went still. Judiiz scurried over and pulled him off her friend. Her knife was embedded in the centre of his chest. He still had his hand around his own knife, up to the hilt just below Rasha's collarbone. Judiiz pried his dead fingers off.

"Rasha! Rasha!" she cried frantically and shook her gently. Two guards had rushed over and were inspecting Hroggar. Judiiz swung on one.

"Please, get a healer!"

"The wizard!" the other guard suggested and the first one went running. Judiiz heard a groan and looked down.

"Jud … iiz?" Rasha croaked and looked at her puzzled.

"Lie still, help is coming," Judiiz sobbed, stroking her whiskers back with trembling fingers.

"Why … is everything so …" Rasha muttered, her voice getting weaker. Her eyes lost focus suddenly, then refocused on Judiiz. "You look … funny …" she smiled feebly before coughing, specks of red dotting her lips.

"Stay still …" Judiiz tried to comfort her, but her eyes lost focus again and crossed over once.

"No! Stay with me!" she heard Judiiz shriek as if from afar. "Don't do this! Rasha!"

Judiiz' voice faded, the blinding agony in her chest faded and then there was only darkness.


End file.
